


steo A-Z flash fics collection

by demi_god



Series: steo + [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (No Deers Were Harmed and all that disclaimer stuff), A-Z, Alcohol, Alpha Theo Raeken, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Bite Fetish, Bloodsucking (mentions), Captive Steo, Confessions, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demon Theo Raeken, Demon Wolf Theo Raeken, Diner AU if you squint, Established Relationship, Experimentation, Ficlet Collection, Flash Fic, Hanahaki Disease, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt Steo, M/M, Memory Loss, Mention of Dead Deers, Mentions of orgy, Mild Dubious Content, Mild Sexual Content, Nogitsune Triggers, Non-Explicit Nudity, Orgy, Pack Mates Steo, Public Sex, Secret Relationship, Sex Worker Stiles, Stalking, Stiles is secretly good in sketching, Summer Love, Summer cliche I guess just Steo version, Table napkins have more than one use, Theo is Peter's son, Vampire Theo Raeken, Werewolf Courtship Rituals?, Werewolf Theo Raeken, pre-season 5A, season 5A AU, soft steo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:34:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demi_god/pseuds/demi_god
Summary: exactly what it says on the title
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Series: steo + [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010148
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	1. accismus

**Author's Note:**

> also on [Tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/641207318263005184/accismus)
> 
> Contains: Alpha Theo  
> Contains: >500 words  
> Contains: Gen Content

A pleased smirk appears on Theo's face as Stiles's heartbeat becomes more erratic in their new proximity, pulsating madly in his chest. Stiles's entire body is rigid, forcing himself to remain stoic as not to give away his fear and the thrill just underneath it. But as Theo nudges the back of his head, Stiles tilts his neck to the side, almost involuntarily, like Theo's touch is a spell. Stiles exhales long and shaky, and when Theo glances down at his fisted hands, he laughs to himself. Stiles is trying so hard to fight it. Oh, how he must hate himself now as he stands baring his neck willingly before his predator.

Theo pushes himself closer, chest to back, one foot between two, and reaches one hand over Stiles's hammering heart. His head dips down, running the tip of his nose over the soft expanse of mole-dotted skin. He parts his lips, then opens his mouth for his fangs, letting the sharp points prod only just, pausing and gauging Stiles for a reaction.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Stiles swallows audibly and says, "I've refused the bite once before," Stiles's voice is loud, but the rush in his veins is even louder. "What makes you think I'll take it from you?"

It makes Theo smile, the toughness in Stiles's voice. Theo has always admired how stubborn he is. Theo gently presses the side of his face to him, his lips grazing the boy's ear. "If you didn't want it," Theo murmurs, "You wouldn't be here."

It is true, especially at the stutter in Stiles's breath. Theo wants Stiles, but he wants him to come to him by choice. And it's what Stiles did by seeking him out without prompting, without force. It is entertaining, though, how even now that he's presenting himself as a gift, Stiles continues to deny his desire. There is no point any longer, is there?

They stand in silence for a minute or an eternity. Then finally, Stiles draws a deep breath and shuts his eyes. His fingers come up to curl around the hand laid over his chest, and his whole body concedes, dropping its fight.

Theo smiles in satisfaction, eyes bleeding red at once as he kisses the juncture between Stiles's neck and shoulder. _This is where their yearning ends_.

~•~


	2. bacchanal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted on [Tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/641293851703885824/bacchanal)
> 
> Contains: >700 words  
> Contains: Sex Demon Theo  
> Contains: Mild Sexual Content  
> Contains: Mild Dubious Content

When the demon he summoned told Stiles that the only payment for his services - helping Stiles and the pack defeat the Dread Doctors and the beast they resurrected - is to attend a party, he laughed. He knows how these works. He prepared to sacrifice his soul and bargain at least five years more before he has to give it up.

Instead, he's walking into this weird underground party where the lights are low and coming from oil lamps on the walls. The music is not booming inside his head but soft, eerie, and creeping into his skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. The people are not dancing as much as they are gyrating; naked, sensual, and disturbingly erotic. Drinks are sloshing here and there, spilling onto the floor or on bare skin, and Stiles can't tell whether these people are drunk from the alcohol or the euphoria of public group sex.

Stiles should have been smarter than this, really, and his brain berates him about it every 10 seconds. He could be walking into a trap. This could be a ritual, and the demon is probably going to slaughter him right here right now, and Stiles can kiss his five years goodbye. He's still a demon, no matter what he looks like (one of those beautiful sculptures of gods coming to life), or how much tongue he used to seal his and Stiles's deal (too much to be professional, in Stiles's opinion).

But Stiles can't turn back. Aside from the deal that binds him, his eyes are locked on the demon waiting for him at the end of the hall, pulling him forward, step by step, with the sex-fogged crowd parting for him. Stiles is not even sure they're aware of it.

When he reaches the shallow platform, the demon wearing the face of a young man with enthralling blue eyes, chiseled jaws, and bronze washboard stomach, stands from his seated pose on a - Stiles can't believe his eyes - an actual four-poster bed with a sea of black sheets. The demon's only sense of modesty is tight black jeans that don't leave anything to Stiles's imagination.

"This is an orgy," Stiles states, embarrassingly squeaky when the ~~fucking painfully~~ handsome demon is inches away from him.

The demon smiles, "What did you expect?" When Stiles only draws his eyebrows together, he laughs, tilting his head slightly in amusement. "You don't even know what kind of demon you summoned."

No, Stiles doesn't, and that's another issue he needs to reprimand himself about, but this demon has done his job all the same, so does it really matter? Stiles swallows, looking straight over the demon's shoulder. The sound of orchestra and slapping skin and moaning mouths still fill the background. "A perverted one, apparently."

The demon isn't offended. He merely raises a finger to run it down Stiles's face and tips his chin up. The demon has moved, closing their distance, and Stiles is silently mortified at himself for being affected - for feeling like his lungs will burst. "You can call me that. But then," the demon smiles, and Stiles is on fire, and all of his switches are suddenly on. He can't see himself, but he knows he is flushing from roots to toe. A little friction on his tenting jeans steals a groan from him, and the demon whispers. "so are you."

Before he knows what's happening, Stiles is transported on the bed, noiselessly, _effortlessly_ , and the demon is on all fours on top of him, grinning. "The name's Theo," he says, his eyes turning to pure obsidian. They're sucking Stiles in, and Stiles should have been smarter than this, but does it matter now? "So you know what to scream later."

Stiles can't even think anymore; all his blood is rushing south of sanity.

The demon leans down, _Theo_ , lips hairsbreadth away from Stiles. "Let's join the party, shall we?"

~•~


	3. cacoethes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also on [Tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/641475384303665152/cacoethes)
> 
> Contains: >500 words  
> Contains: Sex Worker Stiles  
> Contains: Vampire Theo  
> Contains: Mentions of Sexual Activities

Theo texted him again last night after almost a month of radio silence. **_50 grand. Will you stay the night?_** Stiles's hand comes up to his neck on auto-pilot, fingers ghosting on the faded two-puncture mark adorning his pale skin. Stiles shivers from the memory of how it got there.

Theo doesn't feed on his neck. Most of the time, he takes him by the elbow, caresses his forearm, and holds his limb up to his mouth, his cold lips peppering soft kisses before his sharp fangs latch on his delicate wrist and drinks. Theo feeds for thirty minutes or thirty years; Stiles frankly can't care less. You see, it's not only Theo addicted to his blood. The past three and a half weeks without Theo rupturing his body one way or the other had been hellish. It feels like three weeks of descending from cloud 9, and he's about to crash to the bottom when Theo sends his message.

His friends had warned him about it. They were not only appalled that Stiles sells his body to afford the lavish life he now leads that, by extension, unburdens his father of student expenses while also providing him with small luxury. They were downright apoplectic to learn that his client - his _patron_ \- is not a sleazy geriatric with more money than teeth but a young, magazine-cover billionaire with a secret identity. Stiles is in a dangerous position, to say the least. Theo is a new vampire and has never drunk from a human before Stiles. Theo could literally drain him or Turn him, and Stiles should stay away before something goes haywire.

But something already did, is the problem. Stiles can't pinpoint the exact moment when it happened. But he is sure that it was after the chaos of finding out about Theo and subsequently offering his blood to satiate Theo's thirst. And before their last encounter, when Theo broke his rules and took Stiles face-to-face, then fed on him truly like his prey - on his neck while holding him down bodily. Theo had gripped his hair so hard, and Stiles had squeezed Theo right back. Stiles had pleaded him to do it, and he whited-out before it was over. It was better than his fantasy.

Theo doesn't call him or text him after, nearly driving Stiles mad with despair, until the previous evening. **_50 grand. Will you stay the night?_**

He wants to scream at Theo.

Because when the elevator to Theo's penthouse opens to reveal the vampire already waiting for him on the other side, Stiles thinks: _how can he not know?_ Stiles will stay forever for a zero fucking cent.

~•~


	4. displacement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also on [Tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/641568036417126400/displacement)
> 
> Contains: >500 words  
> Contains: Pre-Season 5A/season 5A AU  
> Contains: Canon Compliance  
> Contains: Gen Content

Stiles didn't tell Scott as a feeble attempt to hold onto the temporary calm, but when they had the conversation on the night of the Senior's Scribe, he knew that the scale already tipped on the wrong side.

Life can't ever be all bad or all good. You know, eventually, things have to come back to the middle. So, think about the last few months. Things have been good, right? But not amazing. We've been pretty much in the middle for a while. It means, at some point, the scale has to tip one way or the other. Things are going to get really good again-

Or really bad.

For the past two weeks, Stiles had sat uneasily in his own home. Twice, he had opened the front door to find a deer carcass lying limply on the porch, its blood drying on the wooden floor. He had asked Malia about it, but she only gave him a deadpan look. For three nights in a row, Stiles had heard howling nearby in the dead of night, raising his hackles and stealing his sleep. And one time, when he was coming home from Scott's, a little tipsy and annoyed because fricking werewolves can't get drunk while pathetic humans need only one shot, he had seen a black wolf right across from his street. It stared straight at him with glowing yellow eyes, casually flicking its tail as if wolves were a common sight in Beacon Hills.

He closed his eyes for a second, and it was gone when he opened them. But even in his inebriated state, Stiles knew he wasn't hallucinating. Someone had come to disturb their peace. Yet again.

And this someone wants Stiles on their side. So bad as to go as far as imitating the gestures of an Alpha courting a potential mate. He shudders in disgust.

Because that night of the Senior's Scribe, Theo Raeken had shown up, and all strange activities ceased thereupon; no more dead animals, no more haunting midnight howls. But now, they have a werewolf appearing out of nowhere who suddenly wants to join their pack. He's also pretty adamant about earning Stiles's trust.

But I also came back for you.

Even if you don't trust me, and even if you don't like me, I'm always going to look out for you.

Yeah, right.

~•~


	5. ephemera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [original Tumblr post](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/641756730607517696/ephemera)
> 
> Contains: >1k words  
> Contains: AU - No Werewolves  
> Contains: Summer Love  
> Contains: Busboy & Secretly good sketcher Stiles

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

The question throws Theo off-kilter. He's catching his breath after a long kiss when Stiles pulls back to peer up to his eyes. One hand curls through Theo's hair, and the other runs from his neck to his chest and back again with supple fingers gentle on Theo's warm skin.

It takes him a moment to process the question. When he does, he grips Stiles's waist tighter, pulling him closer on his laps. Theo wets his lips, meeting Stiles's eyes. There's a strange sensation in his chest, all of a sudden. And he has to swallow through compressing airways. The foreign feelings are jarring him, and he'll not stop wondering how Stiles manages to provoke them out. With a kiss-rough voice, he answers, "7 am."

An expression crosses Stiles's face, which he immediately quells with a thin smile. He pushes back Theo's fringe with his free hand, and it's so familiar a gesture now that Theo has to close his eyes to absorb it - all the small details of Stiles's touch, the way he smells, his lips on Theo's forehead, on the tip of his nose, on the corner of his mouth - for their last hours together. If he can't bring him home, he'll take their memories.

Squeezing his shoulder once, Stiles climbs off his lap and out of the backseat of his Jeep. They're deep in the preserve, parked on a cliff overlooking the entirety of the small town of Beacon Hills.

Theo didn't want to go when his father called to spend his summer in California with the Hales. Why would he? He's sure Peter's wife wants to strangle her husband's bastard child and his half-sister Malia is bitter that she's not the only child produced from Peter's loins, or at least, the elder one in this fucked up situation. Theo also knows that his aunt Talia is just being polite and that she also curses his existence. At least his cousins don't pretend that he's welcome. Theo thought he was going back to Massachusetts with a missing eyeball or something.

Then, as a gesture of goodwill after a nasty brawl, his eldest cousin Laura brought him to _Beacon Hill's best diner_ , according to her. That's where he met Stiles, who's working the summer as a busboy. Theo sat in a booth brooding, swearing under his breath, and Stiles had been the only one willing and able to handle his shit. Theo left the establishment soaking in a tall glass of strawberry milkshake and weirdly satisfied. For that reason, he was back the next day, and the next, the next after that, and he never stopped coming.

Theo exhales and follows Stiles to the hood, where a basket of cocoa milkshakes and muffins sit. He leans on his elbows against the vehicle, watching Stiles watch the moon overhead.

"Look into the basket. There are napkins," Stiles tells him spontaneously, without turning.

Theo draws his brows together at the odd statement but reaches inside the basket anyway. His fingers close around a stack of napkins, and he takes them out. Theo stretches his hand to pass them to Stiles when he notices something on the thin white sheets.

His mouth drops open as he stares at the drawing on the napkin. It's a boy, frowning and pursing his lips, glaring down at his lunch plate. His fists are closed, and his stiff, hunched form wants the floor to swallow him for good. Theo knows; it's him on the drawing after all.

Theo flips to the next napkin, and it's still him, with a slightly more neutral expression. The next one is him chatting with another figure - it's the Sheriff, Stiles's dad when they shared a booth for the first time. The next one is him scowling in concentration over a book that Stiles had lent to him. The next one is him smiling, flirting shamelessly at the boy behind the counter. It's all him in two-dimensional pictures sketched on fragile sheets.

"You can have them," Stiles says, leaning back on the hood with his arms. He turns his head sideways, smirking half-heartedly. "In case someone dumps you a beverage at the airport, and you have nothing else to wipe yourself clean. They're excellent quality table napkins."

Theo exhales a laugh, heart pounding, and surges forward, pulling Stiles's head so they can meet in another searing kiss. The angle is awkward, but Stiles kisses back with fervor, tasting like milk, sugar, and chocolate. They don't stop even when Theo takes the few steps that transfer him in front of Stiles, between his legs - they don't stop. Theo's other hand is behind Stiles, clutching the napkins still; he can't let go of both.

They don't stop even when Stiles struggles to say the words between licks and bites, "Promise me nothing else," he states breathlessly. "But that you will be fine after this."

They don't stop even when the drinks spill as Theo climbs and lays Stiles down. They don't stop, the tissues crumpling in his grasp, and Theo thinks he will be all right. He will count the days until next summer.

Then, Stiles will not have to draw him on napkins.

~•~


	6. felicity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [on Tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/641843653983305728/felicity)
> 
> Contains: >500 words  
> Contains: Established Relationship  
> Contains: Werewolf Theo  
> Contains: Hurt Theo  
> Contains: Captive Steo

Theo takes Stiles's wrist and shifts slightly to the side, wincing from his effort. The bleeding and bandaged wounds on his back are stinging like motherfucker, but nothing compares to the ache he feels seeing Stiles's silent tears. Stiles protests his movement, ducking his head to hide it, but Theo silences him by running the pad of his thumb on his lower lip. There's a small cut there that Stiles has disregarded to focus solely on Theo. The werewolf leans to kiss the bruised area. It tastes like salt and rust.

Stiles's eyes fall shut with a quivering sigh. Then his lips begin trembling under Theo's, and the hand holding the blood-stained rag he's using to wipe the gash on Theo's face is now fisting Theo's hair. His other hand follows suit, then Stiles's entire body is in tremors within seconds. He drags a shuddering breath, holds it for a moment, and exhales with a small sob. Theo presses their foreheads, bumping their noses and clinging to Stiles's bony wrists. He didn't mean to hurt Stiles.

"Babe, I-" Stiles chokes, fingers squeezing almost too tightly on Theo's scalp. "I didn't want to."

"Shh," Theo shushes him, shaking his head. He knows, of course. Stiles doesn't need to assure him or apologize. Theo will always drop down and take the beating for Stiles. "I would rather have you than him."

Stiles is openly crying now, body rocking in small quakes, unable to hold back his anguish. They both know it was the only choice. It was either their captor whips them both, or Stiles whips Theo. If they had taken the lashes, Stiles would have been in much worse condition than Theo. So Theo handed him the leather, fell on his knees and unclothed his back for Stiles.

"I hurt you," It's too quiet, barely audible even to Theo's ears. But the agony in Stiles's voice is piercing. "I did this to you."

Theo shakes his head again, lifting Stiles's chin and forcing his wet eyes open. His beautiful brown eyes are drowning, and Theo wants to drain his torment. His other hand comes up too, cupping Stiles's face, his thumbs stroking the other's jaw. "You saved me," Theo corrects him. "You saved both of us."

Stiles stares momentarily, sniffles and pulls Theo's head to the space between his neck, holding him there as if Theo will vanish if he doesn't.

Theo inhales the smell of dried blood, remnants of the wolfsbane poison lathered on the whip, and Stiles's unique, calming scent. Despite the pain from his physical wounds, Theo feels content and - dare he say it - happy, to still be with the only one he cares about on the cold floor of a damp cell with the luxury of a first-aid kit. This is merely another storm they will weather.

"I'll be fine," Theo whispers, closing his eyes as Stiles runs soothing circles on his head. He feels himself falling asleep, lulled by a steady heartbeat. "You're here. I'll heal."

~•~


	7. gumusservi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [on Tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/642022719552192512/gumusservi)
> 
> Contains: >1k words  
> Contains: Alcohol  
> Contains: Implied skinny-dipping  
> Contains: Non-explicit Nudity

The light breeze from the evening wind is chilly on Stiles's skin as he sits by the dock of Lydia's lake house with a bottle of beer in one hand. His insides are starting to feel warm, and his head a little heady as he continues to watch the gentle ripples and the touch of moonlight on the water. It's peaceful out here compared to the small overnight party going on inside the house. Stiles can hear the music, faintly, followed by Lydia and Kira's atrocious off-key singing. He groans to himself. He can't watch one more Frozen replay, or it'll drive him spare.

Stiles is just gulping down another mouthful of drink when he's alerted of another's presence. Somehow, he already knows who it is. If he's honest with himself, he was counting down the seconds for when he follows. It took about ten minutes. Swallowing his irrational bitterness on his mind's helpful images on why it took Theo that long to come after him, Stiles looks over his shoulder to throw a surly expression. "What are you doing here?"

The snippy tone doesn't deter Theo; it never has, which both irks and amazes Stiles. He continues striding with intent until he's standing next to Stiles, looking down at him with that stupid slanting smile of his. Even in his slightly foggy state, Stiles can't help the way his eyes scan appreciatively on the length of Theo's body before remembering himself and snapping back to his face in disdain.

Damn it. Stiles is a little drunk, and he wants Theo. Tomorrow, he would be sober, and he'd still want Theo - the obnoxious, loathsome, manipulative evil asshole that he is. Stiles is an excellent judge of character, and he knows full-well that the chimera is terrible news. But then again, his tastes have always veered to the dangerous side, it appears. In Stiles's defense, danger always gravitates towards him, too, so what is he supposed to do?

Theo falls down beside Stiles, bending his knees with his feet flat on the wooden decks. Stiles glances back to the house, a good enough distance away for the others not to spy on them but still in hearing range, in case Theo decides to gut him. When he looks back to Theo, the boy already has his eyes on Stiles, and their bodies and faces close. Stiles startles at the nearness of Theo's blue eyes, leaning back quickly and cursing the hot flush rushing to his face. Theo grins at the reaction, the intolerable douche, before saying, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Stiles's reply is a baleful look and set jaws. "Go back, Theo." he snaps, eyes moving to the view over Theo's ear. The blue of his eyes is too intense for Stiles's already wavering focus. "I'm sure _Tracy's_ looking for you." He doesn't bother keeping the venom in his voice at the girl's name, though. Stiles can't stand her. No one even invited her. But she used his dad's and Lydia's mom's acquaintanceship to gain a free pass to the lake house slumber party. All to follow a boy that already dumped her ass more times than Stiles could keep track of.

Theo, the absolute _bastard_ , laughs and smirks, seemingly entertained by Stiles's crisis. Jerk. He leans back on his hands, eyes glinting. "You're not even trying to be subtle anymore, Stiles," he states matter-of-factly.

"Psh," Stiles scoffs inelegantly, looking back to the water and bringing the bottle to his mouth, downing a huge gulp, and grimacing into the sky. His bottle thunks as he sets it down. "I'm tipsy, Theo. Cut me some slack."

It's quiet for a moment, and if Theo's presence is not heavy on Stiles's side, he would have thought he left. But of course, it's Theo. Stiles will more likely stop a flood than stop Theo when he wants something.

Stiles had emptied his bottle before Theo speaks again. "Can I say something crazy?"

Despite himself, Stiles laughs at the reference. He won't be watching Frozen in another ten years, thank you, but he plays along, turning to Theo with a sarcastic smile and exaggerated wide eyes. He quotes, "I _love_ crazy!"

"Let's bathe in the lake, then,"

The statement immediately cuts Stiles's ridicule. His mocking expression falls when he sees the seriousness and sincerity on Theo's face, and all he can do is open his mouth and blink. Theo doesn't give him time to form a sensible, coherent, intelligent response as he already stands on his feet and begins stripping right in front of Stiles.

Stiles sputters, more in embarrassment than outrage, and he can't avert his eyes as one-by-one, pieces of clothing drop on the boardwalk until Theo is only in his tight, black underpants. He's grinning at Stiles, fully aware of Stiles's interest - damn him and his stupid olfactory advantages - as he thumbs on the waistband. His gaze is penetrating, asking Stiles for final permission. If Stiles wants Theo to stop, this is the moment to say it.

He doesn't. Stiles swallows dryly and licks his lips, breath stuttering, and his spine is shivering but not from the cold, and it's all the confirmation that Theo needs. In a second, he's naked. And this is all future Stiles's problem, really, because what he says next is:

"Can I say something even crazier?" Stiles's voice croaks, and he's buzzing in heat and excitement, and something is already stirring low in his stomach. Theo steps forward until he's so near that Stiles has to crane his neck so that their eye contact doesn't break. This close, even Stiles can smell Theo's arousal. He's the most intoxicating thing Stiles will ever taste tonight, he thinks. "I'd love to."

He's right.

~•~


	8. hanahaki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [original Tumblr post](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/642202721355710465/hanahaki)
> 
> Contains: >1k words  
> Contains: Hurt Steo  
> Contains: Memory Loss  
> Contains: Hanahaki Disease

Stiles is dabbing his mouth with the back of his plaid's sleeve when he opens his bedroom to find his best friend, Kira, sitting on his desk chair and watching Theo sleep on his bed.

He momentarily pauses by the doorframe before stepping inside and closing the door behind him with a soft click. He turns to Kira, watching him now with red-rimmed eyes, and promptly looks away, sighing. Stiles rubs a finger on his eyebrow, biting the inside of his mouth hesitantly, before meeting Kira's eyes again. They stare at each other wordlessly, acutely aware of the soft snoring from the sleeping lump a few meters from them.

Kira breaks the silence first, "I wish you would at least consider it," she says in a gentle pleading tone and trembling dark eyes, that Stiles averts his to avoid it. Stiles always gives in to Kira. But he can't, and he won't, today. Not about this.

He walks to the nightstand and begins collecting the roll of bandages, cotton balls, and other first-aid materials cluttering on top to have something to do. He glances at the boy in his bed and immediately feels his heart constricting - from the flower suffocating it, or just his yearning for Theo. He guesses it's both now. There isn't one without the other.

"Stiles,"

Kira begs again, and Stiles closes his eyes to breathe for a second. His airways are a little tight now, but he inhales deep to gather his mind. Stiles knows that the appeals won't stop with Kira. Everyone will try to implore him to change his mind, but he won't. The hard part of that decision is trying to make everyone understand why.

"Kira," he opens his eyes and turns to his best friend, wishing she can see the sincere apology in them. "I'm not doing the surgery."

Kira stands, "You could die,"

"Or the curse could break, and Theo would remember me," Stiles counters, hating the stinging on the sides of his eyes. He breathes again and thinks he can feel the plant taking space inside him, growing every day that Theo fights him, loathes his existence.

It had been close to six months since the pack's encounter with the witch that put the curse on him and Theo. The witch had escaped - the others too preoccupied with saving them, to run after her. Two weeks after that, Theo had woken up not remembering Stiles, and Stiles had coughed out the first flower petal.

It gradually worsened since then. Stiles throws up a good handful of white lily petals now smeared with a bit of blood (and, really, the sight is aesthetically pleasing on his sink or the tiled floor if not for the meaning behind it), and Theo provokes the pack that keeps on insisting he stay with Stiles. Just today, he and Liam scuffled to the ground like children. Surprisingly, it was Kira that managed to convince him to go home with Stiles.

Stiles swallows the feeling of a petal clinging to his throat. "Theo would remember he loves me."

There's a period of silence when Kira steps into his space and pulls him down in a hug. Stiles unconsciously relaxes, giving in to exhaustion for the first time, and clings to his best friend. He takes in the smell of her hair, apple-scented, and his lungs don't feel so full, if only briefly.

Kira buries her face on his neck, wet eyelashes fluttering on his skin. She whispers, holding on to his shirt as if the mere question could steal him away. "What if he doesn't?"

Stiles knows it's a risk. The curse is potent, and even after months of searching, the pack is nowhere near a solution to counter it - to remove the block inside Theo's head that took all his love for Stiles, that, as a result, planted the disease on him. But Deaton has learned of a way to save Stiles. According to the hanahaki myth, the flowers inside Stiles could be extracted surgically but with a dire consequence. He would never love Theo after it's gone - the reason why it grew in the first place. It's a choice between risking his life for unrequited love or giving up on everything he and Theo have. He won't let either one happen. Stiles has always been an exception to the rules, and he won't stop now.

"He doesn't need to love me the same way before," Stiles replies, just as quiet but edged with tenacity. "He has to love me _now_. And if it's the last thing I do, I won't ever quit on him."

Kira's only answer is a shaky exhale as she presses her head to his chest much harder.

Stiles rubs her back, turning his head a little to look at Theo. Out of all the uncertainties of the situation, one thing he knows for sure is that: "Theo will do the same for me." And that's all Stiles needs to keep trying.

He won't give up on someone who won't give up on him.

~•~


	9. interim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr post](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/642929420667158528/interim)
> 
> Contains: >600 words  
> Contains: Underage Drinking  
> Contains: Confessions  
> Contains: Pack Mates Steo

"You know what I hate more than being with you on stakeouts?" Stiles turns to him, eyes droopy, hair unkempt, face red-blotched, clothes wrinkled, and 10 miles from sober. The TV is muted in the background, its warm glare illuminating the side of Stiles's face in the otherwise dim setting of the Stilinski living room. The Sheriff is at the station with the others. Meanwhile, they're sitting on the couch in silence, pretending to watch an even more silent box, while each nursing their bottle of beer - Stiles's fourth and Theo's second (the Sheriff will _not_ be happy). Until Stiles concluded to fuck it and shifted his body sideways with a folded knee on the space between them to acknowledge Theo. Stiles continues after a pregnant pause that they utilize to gaze at the other's face. "Being with you _after_ stakeouts."

Today, Stiles is fidgety more than usual, snappish more than usual, and uncharacteristically quiet in moments that he usually spends rambling about anything and everything he can think of. Granted, he was also probably anxious about the case. The pack had been investigating it for months now - underground drug-potions dealing on dumb teenagers.

But they'd apprehended the warlock behind it just hours ago, and they're now left to idle about as Deaton studies the potions' properties, and the guy is at the Sheriff's office for questioning. All in a day's work for your local high school seniors. Still, Stiles is agitated, cranky, and it's evidently Theo-centered.

With a practiced indulgence, Theo merely lifts a brow and points out, " _You_ invited me here to drink."

"Yeah," Stiles nods aggressively, "And you can't even get drunk, you snob."

Theo snorts, "High alcohol tolerance."

Stiles makes a noise and waves a dismissive hand. After another gulp, he wipes his mouth, grimacing a little. "Anyway," he says, putting the bottle down. "I only need to get _me_ drunk."

Inconspicuously, Theo trails the movement of Stiles's fingers as they wrap around the bottle, then to the way the fabric of his denim pants stretch comfortably on Stiles's legs and crotch where the bottle is perched. Judging by the spike in Stiles's heartbeat, Theo hasn't been discreet at all. He can feel the change in Stiles's chemical signals from antsy and annoyed to antsy and interested. Theo meets Stiles's eyes. "Why?"

Eyes dropping to Theo's lips then flicking back up, Stiles licks his own. "You ever heard of the phrase ' _in vino veritas_ '?"

Theo hums along with a single nod.

"It's the only way I can talk about this."

"About what?"

"About," Stiles visibly struggles, worries his lower lip to a chap, and straightens. Swallowing, he looks directly into Theo's eyes, "how I think I might not be as in love with Lydia as I believed. Or as straight as I assumed."

Laughing softly, Theo clarifies, "You mean you had a bisexual awakening?"

Stiles stares at him, lips twitching. "Something like that."

Finding the entire confession amusing because Theo's _way_ ahead of Stiles in this knowledge, he presses on. "When?"

Stiles is quiet for a moment, one finger playing with the mouth of his bottle. Then, "Basically," he starts, voice slightly rough. "every time you're with me. It's _infuriating_."

Theo smiles, puts both of their bottles on the coffee table, then proceeds to make better use of the couch.

Stiles doesn't hate him that much, after all.

~•~


	10. juxtaposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr post](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/643474089190801408/juxtaposition)
> 
> Contains: >600 words  
> Contains: Secret Relationship  
> Contains: Relatives Scott/Theo

"Hey,"

Two heads look up when Theo enters the kitchen; one of them grins at him, and the other won't look him in the eyes. Theo inwardly snorts in amusement at the latter, walking to the fridge to take a gallon of orange juice. The two friends have resumed their argument by the time he joins them on the table - right across from Stiles, who still refuse to acknowledge Theo.

"Oh, good," Scott chirps up when he sees the plate of pancake that Theo puts on the table in front of him. "You spotted breakfast. Stiles spared you the plate."

Arching his eyebrows, Theo slides his eyes to Stiles, whose face is twitching like he's constipated. Theo smiles tauntingly. "Did you? How thoughtful, Stiles. And I assumed that you hated me."

Stiles lips thin in a line, probably contemplating ways to make the ground open and swallow Theo. He finally raises his head and pins Theo with a menacing glare, "I do," he says through clenched jaws. "But I don't want my best friend to think that I didn't, at least, try to be civil to his visiting cousin," Stiles adds, narrowing his eyes at Theo's unfaltering smug expression. "Even if the said cousin is a _nightmare_."

He's tempted to reply with ' _that's not what you said_ _last night_ ' but noticing the warning flash in Stiles's eyes, Theo drops it and shrugs instead, slices a piece of pancake, and chews it happily to Stiles's face.

Scott looks at both of them back and forth, used to the behavior by now, before turning back to Stiles, "Okay. So, as I was saying, he will be expecting you in the coffee shop later." Stiles's frown only deepens at the statement. "Please, Stiles, give him a chance. I think you'll like him. He's your type!"

Stiles sighs, grumbling. "He's not my type."

"Well," Scott insists, not the least bit deterred. "He's a bit like me." He points out proudly.

"Puppy eyes, tooth-rotting sweet, the typical boy next door, and more likely vanilla?" Theo inserts in the conversation, giving his cousin a slanted smile.

Scott considers it for a second. "I'm not going to comment on the last one," he starts slowly, "but yes on the first three, I guess."

"Well, Stiles," Theo leans against his chair, crossing his broad arms. Looking straight into brown eyes, Theo's tone becomes conspiratorial, "Is _that_ your type of guy?"

Flushing, in contempt or something else entirely, Stiles hisses at him, "None of your business," he looks at Scott, shaking his head. "I can't believe you share blood with this asshole."

Theo laughs when Scott says nothing, lifting his shoulders lazily. "Just trying to be _civil_."

When their gazes meet much later, after another round of the same argument, Theo knows that the glint in Stiles's eyes is definitely not in disdain after they lower to his mouth to leave a lingering taste even from across the table.

He remembers with astounding vividness how they feel against his own.

_"What happens in this room stays in this room."_

It's playing clearly in his head in ultra-high definition.

_"Fuck you."_

_"Fuck_ you _."_

And the anticipation of doing it again - doing his cousin's best friend under his roof, under his nose, under an illusion that Stiles can't stand Theo - makes his skin prickle everywhere.

_"Scott can't know."_

Well, being someone's dirty little secret is part of the thrill, isn't it?

~•~


	11. kismet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [on Tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/643567829689532416/kismet)
> 
> Contains: >600 words  
> Contains: Reference to season 3 episode 20, Echo House  
> Contains: Nogitsune Triggers  
> Contains: Experimentation  
> Contains: Season 5A AU

Stiles blearily opens his eyes to a vision of Theo looking down on him, wearing that charming smile that keeps sucking Stiles in like a black hole. His body feels sore, and there’s a pounding in his head, but an overwhelming sense of déjà vu douses him awake as cold water would when Theo says:

“I borrowed a few pointers from the five-point restraint.”

He becomes aware of the binds around his wrists and ankles, his body, then, as he tries to shake them loose. He’s disoriented, but a quick scan of his surroundings lets him know that he is in the Dread Doctor’s lair - like Theo had promised. He remembers driving to the preserve, knowing he’s walking into a trap, then seeing Theo and his triumphant smile. And next, he’s there, in the villain’s den, strapped helplessly onto an examination table.

Theo looms over him, grinning like he’s already won, and shows Stiles what he’s holding - a powered hand drill.

It’s like his chest collapsed to his lungs. Cold sweat breaks, and sheer terror rises in him, the back of his mind replaying nightmares of Eichen House’s basement just before he surrendered control. It’s a miracle that he still finds the voice to choke out, “What are you doing, Theo? Let me go.”

Theo’s head cocks to the side, unmoved. The drill in his hand whirs to life, filling the closed space with its taunting noise. Theo smiles, “Let me in.”

Utter dread crawls up every crevice of his body, and his involuntary response to breathing malfunctions. Stiles struggles against his binds to no effect, and his head fills with memories he tried so hard to suppress. It’s like a nightmare about walking into his nightmare fully conscious. When it all becomes real. When he can’t tell what is real. When what he only knows is that he will lose - against the nogitsune, Theo, his treacherous mind.

“Stiles,” Theo croons, reaching to brush his unoccupied fingers on Stiles’s face. His eyes are gleaming madly, and the sound of the drill draws nearer. Stiles needs to breathe. “Do you want to leave here alive? Do you want _us_ to leave?” His tone is so gentle that Stiles’s skin prickles where he isn’t numb with fear. “We can walk out of this place. Just let me in.”

Stiles’s eyes are wet, and he’s probably crying. He throws his head back, as far into the table as he can get, while he thrashes. Theo’s is unfaltering. Stiles opens his mouth once more, forcing whatever is left of his voice to demand or, to beg, he can’t tell. The lines have blurred. “Let me go!”

“Let me in, Stiles,” Theo repeats. “Let me in.”

He screams - or thinks he did. His throat is clogged up. His mind is blacking out.

“Let me in,” Stiles distantly hears Theo gritting out over him. “Let me in!”

Stiles must have whimpered, grunted weakly, something. But Theo brings the drill to the side of his head. The loud whirring near his ears tells him of impending defeat. Once again.

“Just let me go, please.” He wants to say. But he sucks air through his nose instead, desperate for it to be over, holds his muscles tight-

“Let. Me.” The tip of the tool is kissing his temple now. “ _In_.”

-and gives in.

~•~


	12. leverage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [on Tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/643925372306669569/leverage)
> 
> Contains: >1k Words  
> Contains: Demon Stiles  
> Contains: Demon Wolf Theo  
> Contains: inspired by that Calypso/Davy Jones scene from At World's End

A slight rustling noise snaps his eyes open. He lifts his head from where it's dipped between his folded arms, then promptly smiles at the silhouette of a man in the shadows. He stands to grip the thick iron bars of his jail that are separating him from his beloved. But as soon as his hands close around the bar, they begin smoldering, and he retreats with a hiss. Looking down, his palms have imprints the shape of the bars, so he sends a regretful look at the man in the shadows, for he can't come any closer without hurting.

"My love," he smiles again and calls to the darkness, softly - the longing from so many years. "You came for me."

"You were expecting me?" The man answers, voice gruffer than he remembers and much colder than the floor of his dingy cell.

His heart clenches. It has been so long that they are apart - far too long. "It has been torture," he admits, clutching his hands together and rubbing the charred skin absently. His expression sours when he gazes down at his fragility and spats with bitterness: "Trapped in this _frail_ body." Then his eyes search his in the darkness, "Cut off from my world, from all that I love - from _you_."

Finally, the silhouette steps out of the shadows, the small light in the cell revealing a cruel face glaring down on him. When the visitor speaks again, it radiates anger amplified by low growls and grinding of elongated canines. "Ten years I devoted to the duty you charged to me," he begins without preamble, taking measured steps forward. The man's unchanging beta form is sneering viciously and twisting his hideous features some more. The olive of his skin darkening another shade until all the man is for ignorant eyes is inhuman. "Ten years I looked after all the bitten wolves that negotiated servitude to you in exchange for power." Another step closer: clashing fury and yearning. "And finally, when we could be together again-" the man halts, inches away from what divides them. Their gazes lock and the man's irises bleed into the most spiteful of blood reds. "you weren't there."

He looks down in shame, noticing the man's unmoving chest. Then, he closes his eyes in remorse.

" _Why_ ," The man growls accusingly, "weren't you there?"

He gazes up, pleading with his human eyes. "It's my nature," he whispers mournfully, for it is the truth. Humans promise him their lives, not the other way around. "Would you love me if I was anything but what I am?"

The man - or rather, the werewolf who cannot find the man in himself anymore - snarls, "I do _not_ ," he punctuates each word with spitting rage. "love you."

He shakes his head, reaching for the iron bars again to be a little closer. The skin immediately burns, but he endures it, pressing in desperately to eliminate the years of distance and betrayal between them. "Many things you were, Theodore," he whispers, reveling in the emotions flickering on the hardened facade at the sound of the man's name from his mouth. He reckons the man has not been anything but the " _demon wolf_ ", as many like to call him, in so long that he forgot he wasn't always it. "-but never evil. You have corrupted your duty, and instead of lending power, you stole it. And so you corrupted yourself. And you hid away what should-" Unmindful of the scalding pain, he inserts his arm in between the bars to finally touch his love, his Theo, right on the space in his chest where his beating heart should have been, "always have been mine."

Right as his fingertips touch the raised scar of the man's hollow chest - from where he cut himself open and took his heart out to bury it where nobody is supposed to find it in the name of invulnerability - Theo's skin shed its decaying color to show the rich bronze underneath. The werewolf's fangs and claws retract, and he is once again glimpsing the beautiful face of the man that Theo was.

Theo peered up to him, where his eyes are the man's mirror. He feels the man shudder at seeing his face and not the monster after all these agonizing years.

He smiles, his forearm blistering and smoking in their midst, as he brushes his fingers on Theo's unmarred face. Theo's eyelids drop close at the gentleness of the contact. _After all these years_. And his heart clenches once more when Theo whispers his name like a prayer - his name that no other human knows and no other human will ever pray to as much as they curse it.

"I'm Stiles in this body," he says. "But I will be free and I would've promised you my heart. We would have been together." He withdraws his burnt hand slowly, wistfully. "If only you had a heart to give."

Just as quickly, Theo's face shifts back to its beta form, and the irony would have been laughable if it's not brutal. The demon is bound to a human form, and the human is now a monster akin to a demon.

Theo snarls, banging the cage with woeful crying, chasing his lost humanity. When he faces Stiles, his eyes are back to red from bright blue. He easily extends a clawed finger to Stiles's face, leaving a scrape that bleeds. "Destroy the Hales who befouled you. Bargain your freedom for my defeat; it's the only way they can achieve it. Then _destroy_ them."

Theo pulls away, backing into the darkness again.

"Is that the fate you wish for, Theodore?"

Before he disappears, his vow hangs in the air. "You can have my heart and do with it what you desire. It will always belong to you."

~•~


	13. missionary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [on Tumblr](https://voidstilesplease.tumblr.com/post/644014676379877376/missionary)
> 
> Contains: >300 words  
> Contains: Outsider POV (non-Theo/Stiles)  
> Contains: Mention of Sexual Positions

"The thing about being friends with Stiles is that you often have to deal with TMI even when he isn't around to tell it," Kira says to the camera.

"Earlier, we met in a cafe near my university to chitchat. It's nice and fun; I missed Stiles, and it was nice to see a familiar face. Then we separated a couple of hours later so he can meet his boyfriend, Theo, in his dorm." Kira pauses, shuffling the belongings clattering on the table, searching for a particular item. When she finds it, she looks at the camera solemnly again.

"Unfortunately, he dropped something on his way out. A bingo card," Kira raises said card to the camera. "The first row is all marked out, and there's only one square left on the second. That square says Missionary." She puts down the card with a sad sigh.

"The first row of crossed-out words are corkscrew, flatiron, wheelbarrow, butter churner, and spork. I thought, hmm, _tools_. It's probably a to-buy checklist, after all." Kira takes a deep breath.

"Then, I read the second row, and ignorance truly is bliss. The four other words are valedictorian, chairman - pretty unsuspecting, until _cowboy_ , and _reverse cowboy_ ," Kira stops, pursing her lips in horror and looking like she's about to cry.

"And now I'm here in my apartment, _miserable_ because I know what position my friend is doing - or being done - right now, and I'm talking to a camera because I will go crazy if I didn't, okay? Who even plays sex bingo?" She cries out, shaking her head. "Of course, they will. I'm surprised that I'm _surprised_." She exhales in resignation.

"At least, they're doing it safely tonight because tomorrow," Kira glances at the card, grimacing. "is scheduled for Upstanding Citizen."

"Lay off the bagel, my friend."

~•~


End file.
